éli put the spyglass to his eye, tracing the outline of the smaller corsair ship shrouded in a thin veil of fog. The brand on his shoulder pulsed, the high council’s magic pushing the fleet further away from the north and toward the most dreaded land on Sandaris.

  The Dark Isle.

  A realm of shifters, death dealers and deep magic. No one ever returned from the Dark Isle.

  The high council reinforced the belief in ìdol?n that all shifters and forms of magic were inhuman and must be eradicated. Only in the prisons did éli learn a much darker truth.

  Magic wielders were tortured so their power could be siphoned away by the old men.

  It was the main reason he held onto his own magic so tightly, so he wouldn’t end up dead behind bars. And why he kept a tight leash on Evardo. If Kóranté Alken knew the breadth of the dreamwalker’s power, he’d have Evardo branded and in chains. So far, his servant had escaped the iron fires, but his son had not been so lucky.

  éli lowered the spyglass.

  Granger leaned on the rail beside him. “Forty-seven men plus the boy and the servant.”

  “And how many still loyal to the old man?” He tightened his grip on the spyglass as the skies darkened toward night.

  “Thirteen.” Granger kept his voice low and crossed his arms, his one good eye watching the activities on deck. Two young soldiers sparred near the prow while others walked their horses near the stern. “Night could give us the advantage.”

  It still wasn’t enough. The thirteen Rakir still loyal to the high council were older soldiers, well-seasoned and still in their prime, including General Tyken, who had tossed the hevkor overboard nearly a week ago and taken command of the ship.

  If it wasn’t for the kóranté in the hold and the magic he wielded through their brands, éli would have already tried to kill Tyken. Even then, one false move and he’d have the rest of the army to contend with. More than thirty ships followed the corsair carrying horses and soldiers, yet his gut told him something else was in play beyond the bloodflower key.

  éli had never reached for the full breadth of his own power before, but after two seasons outside prison walls, he ached for the freedom his brother always promised. To feel the Flame’s smooth silk in his veins like a forbidden mistress and to finally be the master of his own life.

  “Stay ready. We’ll figure a way out of this mess.” Then he was going to head straight for Jon. To steal his woman while Granger ripped Theryn Blakewood’s eyes out of his skull.

  The corsair blended into the fog with the rest of the fleet, unfurling the last of its sails and breaking harder south.

  “Wait a minute. Something’s happening,” éli said.

  Before he could lift the spyglass to his eye, a zankata soared across the ship’s bow, its gray under-feathers blending into the storm. The crow-like bird settled on a nearby crate and squawked at éli.

  A high council messenger bird—probably for Tyken, but the bastard slept below deck with his own personal guards watching his back.

  éli unrolled the small strip of parchment. Take your men west to Hezérin. Kóranté Dràven will meet you there. He has a surprise to bait Ayers.

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  Crushing the parchment, éli glanced at Granger. He wasn’t going anywhere near Dràven. The old bastard had more strength in his magic than the other five high councilmen combined. Besides, nothing would bait Jon Ayers into a trap more than a woman in distress. Especially one he cared for. “Fleet’s breaking off. It’s now or never.”

  A sinister grin curled the edge of Granger’s lip. “Let me kill Tyken.”

  “Do it.” éli stormed across the deck toward his son and servant.

  Connor was teaching Evardo how to tie a sail closed, showing them how to grip the rope and which knot to use.

  éli clapped Evardo on the scrawny shoulder, and they hunched under his grip. “Take the boy below and tend to my horse. I don’t want to see your faces until dawn.”

  “Y-Yes, sir.” Evardo seemed to have the mind of a child when they replied to any of éli’s orders, and yet in his head, they held a strong, sensible voice as if more certain of their abilities than their hands. The servant grabbed Connor’s hand, and both hastened downstairs, either to avoid his anger or finally have a reason to hide out he couldn’t be certain.

  Neither of them belonged among the ranks of a militant army, but they kept their heads down and did exactly what they were told.

  “You, Hareth. Get up on that sail. The men say the fleet turned south,” Tyken shouted from across the deck, his hair amess as if he’d just awoken.

  “Follow your own orders.” éli shoved the high council note in his pocket and gestured a silent command to his team: Kill them.

  Like Granger, his team had always been loyal, and they were desperate to cut the north away from their lives. He stomped down the stairs toward the stern cabins. Granger would either be dead within the hour or Tyken would, but he had to take this chance or his revenge might be lost before he ever set foot on land again.

  Alken’s dark power beckoned as if the old man had sensed the message. “Come, commander.”

  His stomach knotted at the raspy voice, so like a snake slithering among soggy reeds. He shuddered at the disgust of it and shoved open the door.

  The hevkor’s cabin held a single table, a firemark lantern glowing from the center and cots with heavy, soft blankets. Two women huddled together in the corner, half naked and clinging to each other for warmth. The brands on their hips marked them as sex slaves to the high council.

  Granger had forgotten to tell him that small detail, no doubt intent on using both women to warm his own bed.

  Kóranté Alken stood next to the table, his long hair silvery white against pale, wrinkled faces. The old man’s eyes went straight to his chest, leering like a hungry wolf.

  “You have something for me,” Alken whispered, reaching out his hand. White hairs sprouted from his graying knuckles, the wrinkles deeper than those trailing from his nose to his mouth.

  éli had to strike now before he missed his chance. He unsheathed his dagger and closed the distance between them, slicing across Alken’s throat. His arm froze in midair as the high councilman’s eyes grew dark, black smoke swirling in their blue depths.

  “Betrayer,” Alken whispered.

  éli tried to pull his arm back, but the air pressed against him like a heavy blanket. Black power slammed him into the wall, pain shooting up his spine.

  The air grew thicker. Stifling.

  éli roared as the old man’s magic pressed him to his knees, twisting his arm as the sharp end of his blade inched closer to his throat. “I. Will. Not—”

  The young orphan in éli slid into his mind, a child who feared every ounce of pain and beat of his lonely heart. Forcing the familiar terror into submission, his muscles tightened as he fought the old man’s power, his own magic sliding into his veins like silk. He’d never reached for his power before in their presence, but he was desperate to break the Tower’s will over him.

  Alken stumbled back then slammed his hand against the table as if a bull squaring off to charge. He sliced his hand across the air, the motion cutting a deep gouge into éli’s back. “You are a soldier no more but mine to wield.”

  Too many years he’d endured this kind of pain. The cuts across his back, the shame of subservience when his magic whispered through his body. éli suspected they’d always known what he was, but he’d never openly rebelled. He’d only hoped to one day secure a future of higher status within the ranks so he’d never be forced to serve under Jon’s command.

  Alken made a ripping motion with his hand. The blade tore from éli’s fingers and slammed into one woman’s chest. The other screamed.

  Silk slid into his veins as Alken sliced the air again, over and over until éli’s power faltered, suppressed under the weight of the old man’s strength.

  He dropped to his hands and knees, sweat beading along his temple as his back screamed in agony.

  Twelve. Thirteen.

  Each one stung like the cut of a blade, but the old man’s magic forced the pain to burrow deep into his bones.

  This was Connor’s fate unless éli could put a stop to it.